


Photographs

by iSaMs



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, M/M, Obsession, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iSaMs/pseuds/iSaMs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Photographs are frozen perished memories. Every immortalized piece is a fragment of a person's life, held captive by the edges of fragile paper. Likewise, every hurtful memory is also frozen, confined in the depths of your mind, in which time is often a cruel friend– if it can't heal, if it can't make you forget, it could still be merciful enough to make you used to the pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aperture

  


 

**Photographs**  
  
~AN APH FANFICTION~

**Warnings:** Rated M, Human AU,  
Male Slash, Inappropriate themes and languages  
Please Kudos, Bookmark and Comment  
 **Pairings:** USUK Primarily, FrUK, SpUK, SpaBel

**Note:** Revised (August 2013). Major structural changes.  
Eliminated purple prose, tense confusion and plot holes.

**Beta Read by:** Tobi Schroedinger (FFN)

I don't own APH whatsoever.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Aperture**

( _In Medias Res_ )

... **  
**

-o **0** o-

My love, even if you hurt me a million times, I'd still forgive you over and over again.  
Just come back to me, wrap your arms around me… let me feel your warmth once more.  
I'll give up everything to see you, hold you, turn back time and stop it from ticking.  
That way you'll never have to leave.  
  
And then you can promise me…

to never make me feel this kind of pain ever again.  


 

... **  
**

* * *

... **  
**

 

_The half-lighted evening was entirely still. A young man who was walking fast suddenly broke into a dangerous run across a thoroughfare. Succeeding loud beeps had the street flow drawn into a split-second halt. The unexpected honks of befuddled vehicles were deafening but none of those bore a single decibel of sound into his ears. When he had reached the other side of the road, he staggered and almost choked catching up his own breath._

_The medium-format camera he carried seemed to have been smashed on hard, concrete pavement. Its lens hood was chipped beyond repair and the wide-angle lens itself bore a sharp web of cracks. The camera’s display panel appeared to have met the same fate and bled out into an ugly black colour. Although these costly investments were ruined and shattered, it wasn't that kind of damage that had put the young man in utter shock._

  _At that very moment, no words could ever describe the surreal shock that melted his entire world into a vague blur. He never thought everything would turn out that way. It was just too impossible. The way things concluded allowed overwhelming despair to slash a gaping wound into his chest. The pain kept reaching his mind and ripping out what's left of his scarce sanity._

  _Trembling hands dug into the four pockets of his trousers. He searched for a handkerchief but there was none. All he could do was to raise his scarf into his half-closed mouth, biting it very hard to restrain an impending scream. He felt as if he was about to burst out but even tears were held back by his extreme disbelief on what had happened._

 ' _No way. Why him? Why never again?'  
_

_He sat down on a metal sidewalk bench near a flickering street light._

_By then, reality began to dawn inside him as warm tears finally started to roll down his cold face._

_The night turned into a freezing rage, seeping through every inch of his skin. It was so cold that he felt like his jacket wasn't even enough anymore. He wasn't sure if the cold was from the evening air or just from his centre, deep within. Trembling hands desperately clutched through the hopeless side pockets of the clothing. Then there was something that felt like thick paper inside. He pulled it out._

_It was a photograph. Two people smiling. Happy._

 ' _Oh and I will take photographs of us together, so you won't forget. That is, if I'll die this day.'_

  _A voice kept on going and going, screaming regret in every whispered word._  
  


   
 _..._

* * *

 

_..._

“…how will you spend this day if it happens to be the last day you'll ever live?” A young man who was peacefully watching a few strolling strangers down the street suddenly presented his companion this unexpected question. His curious eyes, the colour of cornflowers, shifted sideways and lingered towards another pair which was only unmoving. His gaze eagerly waited for a response, which had taken a short while. 

“I don't know, Al. Maybe sulk myself into oblivion? It's my last day alive. Anything I do on that day won't even matter anyway.” A smaller-framed man only replied dryly towards such untimely words. His body was positioned in an opposite way of his companion, quiet eyes staring blankly through the plain concrete floor of the rooftop.

The two were at their favoured place, slowly passing time and leaning before the partly-shaded brick edge of their apartment block’s rooftop. It was a rather typical-looking place but still very neat. With the gentle white noise of exhaust fans, the sight of momentarily blissful potted plants and the occasional bedding gently swaying in the breeze, the place gives off quite a peaceful ambiance.

After a little bit of thinking with a face wearing a disapproving frown, the other male immediately chortled out. “Eh? Is that it? If ever this was going to be my last day, I would eat all the ice cream that I could, with all the flavors I want and play video games all day! That way, I'll die very _very_ happy.” With that, he gave an enthusiastic grin at the other one who just started getting busy tapping on his phone to even pay attention.  
  
“Right. Something _very_ interesting to do before perishing.”  Sensing his young companion's usual exuberant mood through the corner of his eye, he nonetheless still flicked a stare back and smiled for this little snarky comment to express a bit of interest even though he never really wanted to. Then as fast as the extent of that tiny piece of attention, he came back again into tapping his SMS.

Even so, for the one whose blue eyes shifted at the same blue skies, it seemed enough.  
  
“But of course, I would only do those things with you, Arthur... only with you.”

It was mid-afternoon, a Saturday in the middle of summer and its unpredictable temper. Al remembers how just yesterday, the skies seemed to have a permanent blanket of grey clouds. Now, as his vision swept through the same vastness, it simply looked so clear, high and infinite. It almost made him feel a very pleasant feeling of freedom, if not only for the inevitable constraints of ruthless heat.

“Oh well, if that's the case then I will take photographs of us together… so you won't forget. Well... That's what I want, if I'll die this day.”  
  
After correcting a few mis-tapped letters on his SMS, Arthur suddenly came up with those words, uttering them out in an almost insipid manner. Even though his reply would only feel awkward and late, he still voiced those words— the kind of words he only thought the other might want to hear.

If Al even felt that awkward blandness, his expression didn’t show any of it nor did he speak of such a feeling. All he just did was to step away from the half-wall and enthused in his usual vigorously loud voice, “Hey dude, let's go down and have ice cream.  I’mma overheat right now, my head's freakin’ killing me.”  
  
Arthur’s eyes remained steady, anticipating for his text message to be sent. He afterwards curiously arched one of his distinctive but striking eyebrows, seeming to know that his companion had just said something but couldn't seem to draw the exact, specific words.

“Alfred, what… come again?” He stared up, flashing his pair of pale green and amber eyes.

“I said, we should head down and have something cold to eat…” Alfred replied in gentle crispness with a voice that seemed to wonder why he wasn’t heard when he was already speaking so pert and loud.  After a short pause in words and firm flicks of gesticulations, he added, “…like ice cream or something.”

Arthur then immediately pocketed his phone and pulled away from where he was leaning. After habitually patting dust away from his back, he fitted over his satchel and long lens case along with the existing camera bag. Al almost came forward to help him but he only refused the offer with a quick gesture of his hand. The photography kit was really heavy enough to cause him a dull pain. However, in all stubbornness, he simply just ignored it.

“Okay then, let’s go.” He flashed a quick smile back towards Alfred and walked right away.

Alfred in turn, quickly picked up his own rucksack which was beside Arthur a while ago and rushed up to meet his companion’s footsteps.  
  
Both of them sauntered nonchalantly towards the rooftop door, thoughts running wild but lips shut quiet. As they stepped down the indoor emergency staircase, Alfred felt a rush of heat that had his hands digging into his pockets, searching for a handkerchief.  When he finally pulled out one, he immediately wiped it across his beading forehead.  Underneath his little finger peeked out one small corner of the white cloth. It bears an elegant, loopy hand-embroidered “A. Kirkland” and a small pink and green rose at the bottom. 

Arthur noticed it and he quickly snarled out a comment.

“Alfred… I believe THAT is mine.” He pointed a finger and then crossed his arms in utter displeasure. For the life of him, he already couldn’t count how many times he had emphasized his dislike against people using his personal effects without even caring for a proper permission.

And despite all of those instances, what displeased him the most is that Al seemingly doesn’t care for anything but a cheap giggle. 

“Return first the hankie I lent you. Then, I will return this to you.”

“Lent me?” Arthur scoffed. “You gave that to me, you git!”

Rebuked, the other one frowned and playfully pouted his lips as a cute tease.

Arthur sighed and palmed his forehead in response, blasé but exceedingly tired over Al’s the ever-recurring display of childish mock-sulking.

“Stop misplacing your bloody handkerchiefs so that you'll never have to take mine for yourself!” He snapped out very abrasively. He could’ve just let it drop if that was the first time Alfred had ever taken a hanky out of his accessory drawer. But then again, ever since they moved in together, the young man's worsening habits had him always invading into Arthur’s drawers thieving for either some facecloth, ties… even socks!   
  
As his thoughts flew over every single one those little frustrations, each of them inevitably weighed down a much larger burden that he had so long hid inside his unperturbed shell. The fingers of his hands folded tightly into fists. He kept them firmly closed as if he were to desperately clutch all of those emotions that are gradually seeping from the cracked doors of his wits.   
  
_If only I could tell him about it._  
  
Alfred, on the other hand, could only watch his beloved stomp off several down-steps in front of him. He was all aware that Arthur was ticked off about the handkerchief but still, he can’t help but feel that it wasn’t really about the _handkerchief_ at all. He was also perfectly aware of the fact that Arthur was never the kind to openly talk about his problems. Even so, Alfred still truly wished that he was trusted enough to have a share of whatever burden his love might have been taking all by himself. If by any chance there is one. 

_If only I could make him tell me._

Even if that situation only seemed impossible to happen, he still reached out and gently intertwined his hand into Arthur's own, just in case if he finally decides to let him step inside his most private space. As Arthur stalled at the gesture, Alfred squeezed his hand and affectionately asked him, “Is there something wrong? Are you okay?”

Arthur’s eyes only slowly rolled and locked directly towards the other’s sincere ones. His other hand gripped itself firmly on his satchel's leather strap. He wanted to speak but the silence that stalled  
between the fourth and third floors only drowned him in hesitation. His breath hitched and he breathed out, forcing a calm smile and taking a few steps up to meet his lover’s face.

“I’m sorry… everything's alright. You don't have to worry about anything, Al.”

Alfred embraced his partner and gently kissed his forehead through stray golden locks that are a bit brighter than his own. He sighed long and hard. His hand gave a piercingly reassuring stroke on the clothed skin under it and then once more, firmly clasped its fingers through Arthur's hand. Al had always thought that they were and always had been a perfect fit.

“If there’s anything, remember that you can always tell me, ‘kay?” For a little while, he closed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Everything, Arthur… you can tell me _everything_.”

Every single one of those words somehow only made Arthur’s pain even more pronounced rather than soothed. His unmoving eyes defocused from his lover’s arm towards the steel railings of the staircase. In Alfred’s arms, he had only felt nothing but the purest, generous warmth. There, within Alfred’s chest, lies a very kind heart that only beats for him. He was lucky indeed.  Yet, deep inside, why does he feel that wretched detachment?

_Alfred..._  
Why do you have to be so kind?  
  
He wanted this relationship— Arthur kept on reminding that to himself over and over.  He knows he can’t afford to lose all the feelings he had finally believed in. He can’t be turning back again towards living a life where love is nothing but a power play, a ridiculous tug-of-war where manipulation becomes  the rope and all reason gambled in between. 

Back then, obsession and insatiability intoxicated him every single day of his life. He gave more than he could give and took much more than what his lovers could even bear to lose. His crazed, obsessive thinking had crumbled his very ability to trust any person that lies with him beneath his sheets. Dreading the pain of being manipulated, he often fell into doing the manipulation instead.

He could never say that everything had instantaneously changed the moment Al came into his life. However, he could swear on the fact that day after day he woke up into an increasingly different world. Alfred never gave up when he pushed him away countless times before. When he closed doors, Al blows up the windows. That childlike, bubbly… tactless young man cared like he was the only person in the world to him. Al was always there, shouting his existence. He was a nuisance, a terribly endearing and exasperating nuisance. And before he knew it, he was swept away into a reality that seemed so different… too different.

_When did I even start to feel so distant?  
If I’ll continue to stay by his side… won’t it be utter selfishness?_

“I love you.” Alfred tenderly said, almost mumbling.

Arthur gently pulled himself away, giving a reassuring smile. “I love you too.”  
 _  
_‘ _Everything's alright.’_ The previous words Arthur had said bounced back and forth inside his own mind.  


_I have lied to you countless of times, Alfred... Even right now, I am lying to you._  
And I know that I don’t even deserve to ask you for any kind of forgiveness.   


“Let's get going? Ice cream's waitin' downstairs!” The younger one was then back into feeling enthusiastic towards finally cooling down his throbbing hot weather headache.

“Of course.” Arthur faintly uttered back.

The dreadfulness he felt hammered even more into his feelings until it can’t go any deeper.  He really could no longer bear any more of it and all he wanted was just to break the silence he had kept for so long. But then, a tormenting anxiety stirred ruthlessly within his distraught mind, making him entirely voiceless. That anxiety lies between the fear of further hurting someone who was nothing but kind to him and the fear of making the mistake of letting him go. Either way, he knew that both of them will suffer a life-shattering loss. However, he must make a choice— and that choice should be the least selfish one.

He has to give him up. Break up and part ways with him... for good.  
  
 _Alfred will be hurt but he’ll eventually get over me, won't he? And he shall move on… with someone much better than I could ever wish to be._

Arthur’s frail smile faded into a sad but accepting tinge. Yet despite the calmness in his actions, deep within his honest thoughts, he was completely terrified.  
  
Both of them reached the bottom by mere minutes. Al, still fondly holding Arthur's hand, opened the heavy utility door using his other arm and elbow with ease. Finally, they were now standing in the small ground lobby of the flat building. There aren't quite many people walking across the hall that time of day. It was rather empty and almost silent with the exception of muffled, dull automobile sounds from afar. Al squeezed Arthur's hand again and drew him closer, whispering next to his ear. 

“Do you have plans for tonight?”                                     

Arthur looked up with a light sense of surprise. “Why?”

“I have something that I've been meaning to say to you.” Al replied straight and quite sombrely, making Arthur worry a little bit. “We have to talk about things… about something.”

“Does it take much time? You could say it now, if you want to.” Arthur edged himself more towards the question for he distantly doesn't feel quite good about what Al was going to say.  
  
“Arthur, I—”

However, in the middle of Alfred's response, Arthur's phone suddenly rang and vibrated inside his pocket. The moment he heard the first note of the tone designated for his work calls, he then had no other choice but to immediately squirm away and excuse himself from their conversation. After pulling out his phone, he turned his polo shirt-clad body away from Al and responded collectedly towards the incoming call.

“Yes, this is Arthur Kirkland, speaking.” He said, the fingers of his other hand playing with the zipper tab of his camera bag.

Alfred could only hear an almost inaudible, hoarse electronic murmur coming out from other's mobile phone. He just stared intently at Arthur's nodding head and firm, slender back. His lips slightly twitched at its corners, sensing the intense fondness in his chest that he always felt while looking at his greatest love. Then again, because of that very fondness, he also felt an inexplicable piercing ache which strangely felt both utterly sweet and cruel. Every time he glanced at Arthur, he couldn’t help but to feel that way.  
  
 _He always looked so damn confident, divine… fearless. Everyone's saying that. However, what they don't know is what I could easily see… that at certain times, Arthur Kirkland could be fragile._  
  
“Yes, I understand. I'll be there on time.” Hearing that, Alfred saw him end the call and put his phone away. He then shallowly blinked as his loved one walked back to him and gently elbowed his side.

“Let's get going. I have work at 6 PM.”

“What? I thought you’re already free for the rest of the day?” Al protested, hands on his waist.

“Mr Honda couldn't get to that ad shoot today so I'll have to compensate. Those editorials are simply not going to shoot themselves, aren’t they?” Alfred then only received a tap on the shoulder. “Now, get your skates on because we only have a bit of time to buy your ice cream.”  
  
Arthur walked out from the apartment entrance first and after a second or two of pausing, Al followed and caught up to him. He afterwards glanced into his tan-strapped wristwatch and released a sigh of relief. 

_It's almost a quarter past four, I still have about two hours to accompany Al and I'll be heading straight to the studio. Good thing, I already have my camera and the needed lenses with me so I really don’t have anything to go back up and fetch._

Arthur calmly calculated off the minutes that might be spent on walking towards his beloved’s favourite place for helpings of vanilla ice cream. As he stared onto the quartz, he could almost hear every passing tick. Each of those miniscule sounds in his mind all blended in rhythm with the light patter of their footsteps and the distant sound of the hectic city.

They must get there by ten minutes or else if Al would burble anything about his budding career as a photojournalist, he would get to listen to it for an hour or so and eventually he will be late for work. The expected cramming of time already started to make him feel a little exhausted 

“Y'know, I don’t really mind you not going with me if you think there’s too little time left for us. I mean, it's already four-something, right?”

“No. I want to go with you. There is still time.”  
  
Alfred just gave a nod and then focused straight ahead. Both of them walked fast enough through the sidewalk even against groups of people mostly walking in the opposite direction. However, when they reached the pedestrian crossing and took a chance with the placebo button, the traffic still expectedly took forever to halt in its respective red light. After a short while, the part of sidewalk behind them only filled up with more lingering pedestrians. 

While still waiting, Arthur felt an incoming call again through his pocket. He took out his phone once more and answered the caller, whose number was anonymous to his address book’s memory. Although, it wasn't actually as anonymous when it comes to his mind's own memory.  
  
As he spoke a quick bland hello, his heart began to pound insanely.

“ _Mon ami… when are you going to visit me here in the city of love? It's been a long time and I'm starting to get bored already!”  
_

“Francis, please do somebody else, I'm taken.” Arthur spoke out carefully not for others to hear him.

“ _Quoi? Is that for real, my love? Am I really hearing you rejecting me this time?”_

“Yes.”

“ _So what? I thought you had no problem whatsoever on having two—“_

Arthur tapped the end call button.   
  
“Who was that? The studio cancelling your appointment?” Al pulled himself closer to his companion and asked softly, bending his head more towards the other one's ear.  
  
“No, just some unimportant person.” As soon as Arthur finished firmly uttering his reply, the nondescript man figure flashed in green. And even if Al would want to ask more and satisfy his curiosity, other pedestrians already had them pushed over to cross the busy street.

Alfred could only glance at Arthur as they crossed the street together. The two of them, side-by-side amidst the unforgiving crowd, Al grabbed his love by the elbow to protect him from the trampling rush of the horde. The lively city ambiance under the pristine blue sky, the sight of Arthur’s hair gleaming against the sunshine and his eyes that hadn’t been more greener… all of these made that precious, captured moment imprinted in his memory forever.  He would never ever trade that piece of moment with anything else in the world.

  _…I don't need anything more than this._  
It's more than enough. It’s actually a hundred years’ worth of blessing.  
And I don't really have any reason to be discontented about my life…  


_… if he’s happy._

“Alfred, can we stop for a minute?” Arthur suddenly grasped his fingers firmly upon Al's arm. The two of them immediately stopped just outside of a furniture shop, taking shade from the dark green awnings of the store windows. He then continued, “My shoulder's just feeling a little bit cramped… ” __  
  
Al innocently smiled in amusement, his ensuing small laugh causing Arthur to raise one of his prominent eyebrows.  Seeing that, the former stopped right away, frowned a little bit and said, “Okay, okay. Hand me over your stuff, I'll carry it for you.”  
  
Arthur immediately handed his personal satchel and his long lens case carrying adapters, supports and a telephoto lens over to Alfred. However, he had left his camera bag hanging free on his shoulder as he honestly thought that it would be a bit too much if he made Al carry all of those things. 

He held a calm stance even while his companion still kept on throwing amused stares towards him. When the teasing smile persisted, he then beckoned Alfred with his hand, silently asking him to quit laughing and hurry on their way.  
  
“Hey, you could really pass that camera bag to me. Your shoulder is aching. I just think it needs some rest for a while.” Although he looked amused, Al was entirely serious in his suggestion. He afterwards gripped on the strap of Arthur's camera bag.  
  
Arthur squirmed away and removed Al's hand. “I'm okay now, really. I can carry this thing very well. Guess I just needed a little help in that heavy lens case.” He tried to convince Alfred by flexing his shoulder joint. However, as he lifted his elbow, a click was heard and the pain became obvious on his face.  
  
Al chuckled. “Ha! You really need more exercise to build up your endurance and flexibility. You're only twenty-three and there you are acting like an old man. Still, don't abuse your shoulder by always carrying too much freakin' heavy stuff.”  
  
“It's fine, really… I could manage this on my own.” Arthur weakly smiled, keeping his very best on supressing his surging irritation.

However, even though Alfred sensed a bit of his beloved one's annoyance, he still insisted, “Hand me that bag over, please. I will carry it for you so you could rest. Listen, I don’t really mind… can't you see—“  
  
“Just… just shut up, okay?! Don't treat me as if I'm fucking made of cottonballs!” Arthur hissed. He would be nothing but surprised on how those words came out of his mouth. Confused, he darted his eyes away as his heart felt even more and more constricted. He wanted to say an immediate apology, but he was rendered speechless. In his wanting to keep Al from seeing the troubled look on his face, he instinctively concealed himself by turning his back away.

However, as he stepped forward and started to leave Alfred behind, his body inherently expects to be hugged tightly once again. His hand was even entirely sure that it would receive warmth from the loving caress of Al's own by that very minute.

But instead, there was none. All that’s present was this awkward sound of silence between them which effortlessly blocked out every bit of noise from a few strolling strangers and passing double-deckers.

Feeling hurt and heavily dismayed, Arthur flatly said, “Come along, let's get going.”  
  
Al pursed his lips and sighed. His foot trampled upon the pavement, stepping forward to meet Arthur's steps. As they moved forward along the walkway, his concerned, soulful blue eyes rolled sideways and fixed itself into the other’s more soulless and soulless one.

It didn’t take so long for Arthur to notice it and he faced Al with a wrinkled brow, “What?”

“I would just want to remind you once again that you have beautiful green eyes...” Alfred sighed and smiled slightly.

The other one only let out an expression of doubt and derision with a short, sarcastic laughter.  
  
“…it's just a shame that you would hide it all behind that temper of yours.”

Arthur’s breath suddenly stalled on its way. And as he dropped his sullen gaze, his curbed breath then continued into a sharp rush out of his lungs.

Both footsteps echoed throughout the seemingly unfitting silence amongst the raucous sound of the city. Not one of them could ignore the sound of their breathing, the pained hush that radiates by feelings of uncertainty and the constant neediness for affirmation. The sound of their screaming thoughts only goes louder and louder by each stretch of sidewalk that their foot trampled upon.

But by every metre left behind, farther and farther from which they came from, to the point where people were getting lesser and lesser in number… Their hands would get closer and closer until they held tenderly, softly and purely.  
  
 _Arthur, I just want you to be happy. I don't want to see you again in those difficult situations like you used to._  
  
 _Alfred, you don't deserve to have someone like me. I know you could only be hurt. I just want you to be as happy as you used to be._

There would always be these words that are only kept by wordless chatters, hesitant to come out and afraid for the hurt that it will bring about. Both finally arrived at the parlour not so long after a few more stretch of sidewalks. That was also then that the silence between their lips was shattered by a simple invitation.

"Alfred, you should go inside first. Wait for me there, I have to place a call to the studio just for a second, okay?" Arthur let his warmed palm fall down on his side. He smiled at his beloved one, something to tell him not to worry about anything. He then wondered how long he could keep up, doing such fake smiles in his sheer desperation to save everything that he held so dear.  
  
Alfred nodded, letting the other's hand go physically, although the ghost of it will still haunt his hand for a while. As he had seen Arthur smile again, his spirits lifted up a bit. He then turned away, faintly smiling and grasped open the glass door of the ice cream shop. A reasonably loud chime was subsequently heard and then afterwards, an expected greeting of an employee.

Another chime went off again and reminded Arthur that he was now alone at the front of the establishment. He felt for his phone inside his pocket and he wasn’t any more surprised when the clock eventually revealed to him that he would surely be late for the impending night’s work. _Bloody hell_ , he thought, _it won't hurt to be late anyway…it’s just for a single day._ He tapped a number that was on his recent call listings and touched the call button. He then sighed and wished that the other end wouldn’t be too stupid not to pick up when he had just called in some few minutes earlier.

" _Oh, Arthur! Have you already missed my voice in such a short time? Haven’t I called you just a few minutes ago, is it not?"_

"In your bloody dreams, frog." He replied, both rolling his eyes in contempt and gripping his clammy hand even more tightly around his phone.

“ _So why are you calling for, my love?"_ The Frenchman's voice gurgled in the electronic line.

Arthur leaned his back against the wall. His cheerless, blank eyes only gazed through each passing pedestrian. In his mind, he suddenly regrets that he ever called the man back. He really doesn't exactly know what to say, not even where to start. But then, he knew that if he has to put an end to what’s unsettling him, he should find the courage to speak a word.  
  
“Nothing. I'm just tired.”   
  
_“Tired by what? Having a monotonous life? Oh no, wait… I mean, monogamous.”_

Green eyes glared at the man who was thousands of miles away, “Hey! What are you trying to imply?”

“ _Isn't that what you said a while ago? Somebody's taking you for a solo drive at rue de l’amour.”_

“Yes, that's true! But I'm not in any way had been screwing around—“

“ _Like having your pole in other holes, dear?”_

“Shut that filthy mouth of yours!” Arthur's eyes darted from side to side, cold sweat beading and trickling down his brow bone.

_“…Just why are you so defensive? Have you actually cheated?”_

“Yes.”

“ _SERIOUSLY?”_

“No, I did not. So kindly quit the persistent teasing.”

“ _For the record,_ _I don't believe you… So who did you shag, mon amour?”_

“You. Remember that night months ago?” He let out a small laugh. Although the moment he said this, his heart had beaten so hard as hazy images from his mind revealed themselves like invisible ink under fire.

_“What?! But you said nothing happened that night… I mean, seriously Arthur… did we—?”_

“No, we didn’t.” Arthur slowly closed his eyes.

“ _Oui. Fine… fine, I won't mess with you.”_

Even though how much he covers guilt with an attempt for humour and made an effort to express every indecent memory as a painful vague joke, it still would not be less true and foul. Arthur knows that it would never be forgivable. Not even in the slightest.

Regardless of how he tried to hide something that is utterly unforgivable, he still wasn't able to put up a good lie. It wasn't that he was truthful most of his life, but he had already promised to be. And it just happened that he only became stuck in the middle— not in any way good both in telling lies and telling the truth. One always covers another, to protect some ugly, bitter truth or lie that was hidden beneath the defence of his words.

But despite everything, the truth will always be the hardest one to admit.

He sighed and continued to talk, “You know what? There might be some truth in what you said. What I mean is, if… if by any chance I’ll do something like _that_ and selfishly hurt the one I love… it would be very despicable of me, isn’t it?

A sudden silence swept up in both of them.

“Francis? Dear friend, are you… fortunately dead?” Arthur broke his own.

“ _No, mon ami. But it really had wounded me far. I had never thought that you love this person so much.”_

“How could you say that? As far as I know, I am such a terrible person.”

The only response he heard then was just some hearty laughter from the other end.

“ _If you are such a terrible person right now, my friend… the thought of hurting someone won’t even bother you, not even for a little bit. You used to be so blatantly indifferent towards other people’s feelings! Oh how I am so extremely proud of you.”  
_

If he's truly such a terrible person now, he won't feel as much guilt as this. Wouldn't he?

“Idiot.”

Silence prevailed again between their lines, only to be suddenly cut short by a French song that suddenly played at Francis’ background. Arthur took a breath and started to speak once more.  
  
“Hey, Francis…”  
  
 _“What is it, dear?”_  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
 _“For what? For continually leaving me in the background all these years?”_ Francis laughed. _“You’re being silly. Really, it’s perfectly fine—”_  
  
“No… I’m sorry for everything.”

Arthur's eyes welled with hot tears that he only immediately wiped against his wrist before gravity had its chance to get hold of it.

_“Now you’re sounding very strange, Arthur.  Really, I’m very happy for you finally finding your special person. However, if ever you get your heart broken again, I still wouldn't mind if you go all the way down here for some wild fun like we used to, mon cheri.”_

Arthur bid his goodbye and put his mobile phone down.

He has somehow felt lighter as a little talking finally aired out his troubles, even though his dialogue with Francis seemed as if it had been two different conversations. What the Frenchman had told him somehow provoked him into thinking. He never would have thought how things would significantly change within such a short time. How he would actually change. Looking back, would such thing as guilt could even torment him? It would only be a blunt no. In the past, all he ever did was to do anything that he wanted, _get_ anything that he wanted and lay his hands on anyone he fancied. He had set aside the feelings of countless people without even feeling a bit of remorse. But now, he felt sullied. He felt filthy.

But how ironic it is… this thing called guilt. It had set him free as it would also cage him in troubles.

His hand gripped tightly against his camera bag.

He walked towards the parlour’s entrance, preparing a shallow smile on his lips. After pushing the glass door and ignoring both the chimes and an employee’s customary _‘good afternoon’_ , he searched for Alfred in the vicinity. He only stopped flicking his eyes when he finally spotted Al’s waving hand at one corner near a wall of frosted glass.

Arthur immediately went towards that corner and took the seat in front of Alfred’s.

“Hey.” It was all that Alfred said as a greeting while he dug a spoon into his big dollop of frozen plain white dessert in a cup.

“Hey.” That very word was also all that Arthur could reply to him at the moment. He pursed his lips and pushed through with his smile, at the same time, staring at the heap of ice cream getting from point cup to point mouth.

Alfred then smiled back at him, with that effortlessly charming and exuberant air that he had always have.

It hadn’t been so long since Arthur first encountered that very same smile. Since then, every time he saw that smile, he couldn’t help realising how much of his own happiness had been so hollow and devoid of meaning. Now, if only he could just be promised a granted wish, he will plead for that smile to never fade… no matter what would happen, no matter how bleak their future might turn out to be.

Al continued to place much innocent focus on one of his most favourite things in the world, which Arthur only fondly observes. After a few more seconds, Arthur finally found a moment in which he could break into his lover’s attentions.

“Alfred, can you pass me my satchel?” He pointed across towards the other chair which contains his belongings that Al had carried for him.  
  
Al immediately picked and passed him the satchel. Arthur reached for it, placed it on his lap and flapped it open. He dug his hand inside a compartment searching for something. Just a moment after, he got a hold of it and pulled a small red and blue gift-wrapped package, which he then handed forward.

“Happy birthday to you, Alfred.”

Alfred's eyes widened and he almost forgot the taste of cold vanilla in his mouth. He took the package and excitedly tore the wrappers in the manner of a small child. When the content was exposed, he beamed again with that smile that had always made Arthur glad.

“Dude! I thought you have forgotten! Really, but thank you! Thank you so much.”

“It's a surprise. How could I ever forget your birthday?” He leaned closer to Al and pleasingly smiled. “That would be quite impossible.”

“I was _this_ close into sulking y’know.” Alfred lifted a hand to simulate an inch with his thumb and forefinger. “But dude, is this for real? How did you get a copy of Guns and Aliens III? What I knew is that it wouldn't be out till September!”  
  
Arthur chuckled and replied, “Oh… one of the designers was a friend of mine.” 

Alfred placed his well-loved gift inside his rucksack and went on, “Why haven't you told me about that before? You really have to let me meet that pal of yours.”

Arthur's smile went into a bit of hesitation but then he answered, “Yes, of course… you shall meet him soon.”

“And yeah, wait.” Alfred took out his gift again and suggested, “Take a photo of me, please? Just a remembrance for this day.”

“…Oh, you’re such a child! But alright, since it’s your birthday today… you’re my king.” Arthur dug in his satchel compartments once again and fished out a digital camera. “Bear with this polaroid. I just bought it and guess what? You’re the lucky first shot, my darling. I would love to take a shot of you in the medium-format but the only viable lens I have now is a wide-angle and I would never want you to have a huge nose on your birthday photograph.”

“Arthur, c’mere.” As his love paused to raise his confused eyes, he repeated, “Come here. If first shots are supposed to be lucky then I want to have it with you.”  
  
Arthur let out a little amused laugh and then stood immediately, saying, “I actually didn’t mean it that way, but alright.” He then waited for Al to clear the other chair before sitting and shifting his body closer to him. Flexing his arm away, he took the shot. Both of them right away checked the display afterwards.

“Aw, we’re not even at the center.” Alfred lightly teased. “I thought you are such a brilliant photographer? I have admired you for so long and this only caused your downfall?”

“Oh please… I photograph other people, not myself.” Arthur laughed heartily, trying to delete the image. However, in his pressing through the buttons, the shot developed instead. “What the—? Damn it.”  
  
“What’s that? You can’t even find the delete button anymore?”  
  
“It seems so.” After a little examination, Arthur gently smacked the print down on the table and suggested, “Well, forget it. Let’s just take another one.”   
  
When Arthur attempted another shot with Al, the lens only retracted the moment he pressed the capture button. Confused, he checked on it again, only finding the display in pitch black.  
  
“Shit. Battery’s dead.” He tried pushing on the power button but then, there was no response. “Al… I think birthday photos will all be at home when I come back.”  
  
“Okay.” Alfred then quickly placed a small, innocent kiss just at the corner of Arthur lips.  
  
“Hey!” Arthur quietly retorted and rolled his eyes around their surroundings. “You can’t just do that whenever you want.” 

Arthur stood up and got back to his former seat while watching his love reach again for the once-abandoned cup of vanilla ice cream. He then felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to drop his gaze when Alfred’s own intently focused on him.

“Don't be angry. I bet you'll allow me to get away with it this time. It's my birthday, y’know.” He then gathered and stirred the softened ice cream with his spoon, forming a pointy centre. “And why exactly not? If you would just allow me, I will do that every single day. I am proud of you… I really am proud of our relationship and if you would allow me to shout it loud now, I would. I will never be ashamed. Arthur, is there really even something to be ashamed of?”

_Is there really something to be ashamed of?_ Those words struck through Arthur's mind, impaling him down to his heart. He went silent after feeling a dull but painful sting, leaving him to feel each bleeding, guilt-ridden wound.

“No.” That was all that he could utter. He let out that single word almost inaudibly whilst sensing an emerging subconscious fear that he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Alfred raised one eyebrow at that silence but then he decided to change the topic, “Aren't you gonna order? And what took you so long outside a while ago?”  
  
“Just caught-up with some old friend that had called… and why the hell did you not order for me?” 

“I never really knew what you wanted. That’s why.”  
  
Arthur was lost for words once more and when Al flicked that same intense stare back at him, he almost couldn’t help the uncontrollable urge to avert his eyes. However, he still managed to hold his gaze even if it caused him to bare even more shame from his troubled, restless soul. 

“Some old friend…” Al toyed around the thoroughly melted ice cream with his spoon. “Would 'ya mind telling me who that is?”

“It’s not really that important, Alfred.”

“I just want to know. Can't 'ya even tell a name? Come on, I don't know that person anyway.”

“Sorry, no.” Arthur flatted out, finally diverting his eyes away from Al's interrogating gaze.

Al hadn't immediately said something in return as he heard Arthur’s blunt manner of blocking his questions. It doesn't feel right inside of him to doubt but he can't help but be suspicious of the way Arthur rolled his eyes away from him. On how he noticed Arthur's uneasiness coming out transparently, he could almost hear the other one's pulse go overdrive.

Alfred knew that he, himself wasn't the prying type but after all of those questions left unanswered ever since the beginning of their relationship, he can't in any way let another one pass again without a sensible response. Filled with that very thought as a reason, he therefore insisted and asked once more.

“Why?”

“Just please…” Arthur pulled out a weak glare. “please drop it already.”

“I am sorry to say this but I think there is something that you are refusing to tell me.”

Al didn't get any response from Arthur who only had his eyes hidden away from him. Arthur almost thought that he would be the one who will break at this unbearable, stifling conversation. However, he didn't expect at all that Alfred will be the one who would lose all control this time. And by every hurting, wounding second, he couldn’t do anything but grip his hands tightly as he listened to sharp words that were long drowned in silent resentment.

“You returned all the way from outside, _from your phone call_ , with eyes reddened like you have been crying. Do you think I wouldn't notice that? So, tell me honestly... is there any?”

“Alfred, please don't spoil this afternoon. We're not by ourselves at the flat, we're in public—“

“I don't fucking care! IS THERE ANY?”

“Alfred, please...”

“For god's sake, if you weren't hiding anything, you could have only said no.”

At that moment, it seemed that there shall never be a doubting word left unsaid and no silent shame left concealed.

“ _I’m going to place a call to the studio—_ I bet you don’t even remember telling me that, don’t you? Well… studio my ass, I am not stupid! If you have problems with anything… why can’t you just bring yourself to trust me with it? Am I… am I really that inadequate?”

Arthur couldn't dare to feel. He couldn't dare to speak. He couldn't dare to look at Al's maddened eyes and he could not bear for any of it to force out all the guilt from him. Alfred's heavy breathing and trembling control made him even wither more in pain and hurt that he was supposed to have been prepared of from the start. He never knew he couldn't actually keep up with a heartache that felt so real.

If only he had been more honest...

“Even though how much I tried reaching out, you still kept on distancing away from me. Yeah, I understood that you have your own space. However, this gap you had always left for me to fill on my own has just become so... hurting. Worst of all, I know that it only hurts so much because I love you and I don't think I could ever love somebody else who is not you. Isn't that selfish? Yes, I am selfish! And I hate myself for it... I hate myself for making you live this way when I see that you really don’t have to.”

...However, it seemed already too late for any kind of honesty.

“Arthur, I... I just don’t know if you’re happy with me anymore.”

He could only do nothing but stare for one last time at his exuberant darling who always had those optimistic blue eyes now moisten up with irrepressible tears. Those lips of his, once so cheerful and so happy, now only have its bright smile gone and faded.

“I don’t understand… what are you trying to say?”

Arthur could do nothing but put a hopeless faith that the love they have shall endure.

_Alfred, I beg you, please don’t do this to me._

“I'm breaking up with you.”

-o **0** o-

...

 

* * *

**A/N:**

Oh, the irony.

Below is a comment box. It doesn’t take that long to drop a note. So please, my dear reader (if there’s anyone out there), enlighten me.

The digicam Arthur used here was a Polaroid Z2300. Up until now, I am still amused on how a friend of mine constantly used it as a compact mini prints printer for his DSLR. Fun!

**To my ever generous beta:**

Tobi, dear, did I overdo it? Write me a review or a PM. You nearly killed me in this chapter. I can’t dodge every one of your juicy comments because I realise that they’re all true. I love you!  
  
 **Short version of my rant at FFN:**  
  
This fan fiction of mine actually just got deleted this day, 5th of October, 2013. Apparently someone had reported it because of the content in chapter two. Well, come on! Why didn't they warn me first before nonchalantly hitting the report button? I utterly felt it was some kind of random trolling or sabotage. My fic walks the fine line between M and MA but in all reality, it really doesn't fully fit into either labels. There were and there are still fics in FFN that is much more explicit than this story of mine. Maybe, I was just unlucky. I lost over 500 hits, six reviews, six faves and eighteen follows. Actually, I don't really care for those. It's just total uncivility that they pranced behind my back and took advantage of FFN's careless and slapdash procedures of reviewing each abuse report. They know that the FFN admin never really checks if the fic really violated the utterly vague guidelines of the site. They just hit delete and send you an effing email.   
  
That's why I truly love AO3. This site is where total freedom of imagination flourishes. Scrap that tagline of FFN, it's completely bullshit. I just hope that AO3 will flourish well as tim comes and that people will finaly decide to leave that backwards, hopeless and increasingly useless FFN site.


	2. The Elusive Photographer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes an entire lifetime to love somebody  
> It only takes a mere second to spark desire  
> If time comes when love isn't enough,  
> Obsession can only be your unconscious choice.

 

**Photographs**  
~AN APH FANFICTION~

**Warnings:** Human AU, Male Slash,  
Inappropriate themes and languages, Character Death  
(non-suicide) Don't Like? Don't Read!  
Favourite, Follow, Review – your choice  
 **Chapter Warnings:** M for a reason goes here.  
Lots of Flashbacks  
 **Chapter Pairings:** SpUK, USUK, SpaBel

****I don't own APH whatsoever.** **

* * *

 

**Chapter 2: The Elusive Photographer**  
...

-o **0** o-  
  
 _Trust, trust… How far can you go with just trust?_

...

* * *

...

September, two years ago  
New York City

 

"You didn't actually have to come here with me."

Those were the words that shattered the wall of silence between two people that seem to avoid staring at each other's eyes. One of them may have more intention to evade than the other, but strangely enough, that person was actually the one who spoke first and broke the subdued awkwardness. Despite those initiating words, he nonetheless still kept himself from darting his pair of deep green eyes to the flaxen-blond young man who was casually sitting at the hotel room's cream upholstered chair.

The seated young blond stared blankly at the short pile of magazines that were perfectly lined at the wooden nightstand across him. Finally hearing a voice after the seemingly endless silence, he flicked his lazy pale green stare for a second to his slightly older, darker haired companion whose body lay tired and heavy onto the pristine hotel bed sheets.

Both of them just arrived from a seven and a half-hour flight from across the Atlantic and it was only a mere fifteen minutes since they arrived at their hotel room. Two luggage bags can be seen placed untidily in a corner, one is set upturned and the other which was dark red in colour was almost off the luggage rack. The Manhattan skyline was truly remarkable and breath-taking at nightfall as seen from their fifteenth floor corner suite. However, some aching mood of brewing disquietness stripped the pretty lights and darks of much expected admiration, only turning it into an ignored, meaningless band of vague shadows.

Suddenly, the seated one squirmed a little bit then finally stood up and walked towards the nightstand. His unhurried steps got him close enough to sense the faint last notes of his companion's familiar scent. It got him even closer enough to hear the very faint sound of scrunching ash brown hair as the man uneasily shifted away from his presence.

The blond's inert lips never planned to speak anything in reply to what the other had just said. Sheer silence in words still prevailed all throughout the subtly lighted room as he crouched low and scanned through the magazines with his index finger. Not so long after, he finally pulled one out of the pile and indifferently returned to where he was sitting before.

As the one on the bed never heard anything in response to what he had said, he firmly uttered again "Arthur–"

"And now, you're talking to me." The blond cut him out dryly in between a quick insolent laugh as he picked his prescription reading glasses from its hard leather case and fitted it through his ears. The magazine he chose was flipped open and by simple chance a page spread across revealed an _haute horlogerie_ print ad whose alluring tan-skinned male model was a handsome brunet with deep green eyes.

The other one's tense hands crumpled the bed sheets underneath in immediate reaction to those bitter-toned words. His pair of once calm and steady eyes immediately shifted into a glare towards the empty ceiling above, synchronising with a sharp sigh at exasperation's edge. He quickly pulled his body up and left the bed with a map of creases. At that very moment, the same eyes now pierced its glare through the glass that framed the unnoticed view of Manhattan's silhouettes, mad and irritated.

Having enough of keeping the tension at bay, he felt no bit of hesitation to turn back and look at the seated young man's untroubled eyes, putting across a definite message that he ensured to get through by means of his intent stare.

For the first time in hours, their eyes finally met. However, it was in a manner that was rather more inexplicable and odd than just simple ill feeling. The cynical eyes behind those reading glasses weren't kind but it was undeniably needy. The glaring deep greens were in contempt but weren't absolutely infuriated, even if it dared to… even if it wants to. They seem to contradict, like fire that is supposed to be ironically cold as ice but still was utterly and irrefutably scalding, in the most severe and unfeeling way.

Arthur refused to let his needy self gradually bare into stark nakedness. Evading his own unsettling feelings, he raised an eyebrow well and above his black-rimmed glasses so that he could hide himself behind his mocking, sarcastic and wordless question of _'what now?'_

The peevish brunet huffed at that blatant attempt of mockery. He faced somewhere else, slightly shaking his head twice then exhaled in disdain. His eyes quickly swept once more towards his seated companion's own, keeping it sullen and steady until he realises that having a civil conversation with the sardonic young man would never be a possibility. Giving up, he uttered a low _'I'll just take a shower'_  and walked away, feeling nothing but complete vexation.

Arthur almost allowed himself to just see the man in front of him disappear from his vision. However, his upset mind can no longer contain nor stand something that feels like falling towards the edge. That feeling, for him was nothing but a very terrible insult to his unwavering self-assurance. He was supposed to be controlling everything, _everything_ on his grasp. As that dark blue-clad back walked further away, he felt like he was losing grip… and he was never even fond of losing anything. For that reason, he ensured that before anything happens, he always had this plan.

 _They can't and won't ever leave him. They would stay. They_ _**should** _ _stay._  
 _And he shall never even resort into any kind of begging._  
 _Begging is absurd… utterly disgraceful._  
 _Therefore, it must never be a necessity._

As the man treaded away towards the nearby bathroom, Arthur quickly got on his feet and caught up to him, blocking the passage through the solid dark oak door. He still managed to vainly grasp the doorknob with his hand that also holds the now-folded magazine. However, it was immediately seized and thrown back to him by a supposed familiar companion, who never appeared as undaunted and as stubbornly bold as before.

Arthur's patience was tried even further, making his once languid eyes turn sharper and a little vicious. He took hold of the door again and pushed it wide open with unnecessary force. The noise it produced as it smashes to the surface of the wall made his previously undaunted companion flinch, which in turn, instantaneously told him off with a despised reaction.

"What is wrong with you?!"

"You wanted to chat, do you?"

Arthur never waited for a response and immediately walked inside, his steps all seemed composed. He sat at the cold top of the marble bathroom counter, fanned open the scrunched magazine and continued reading where he had left off. His countenance turned softer, unfittingly softer. It was as if to perplex and confuse by portraying calmness in the most menacing of ways. As he noticed the other one isn't going to do what he has been told to do, he again spoke to him with a strange, aggressively gentle voice.

"You haven't spoken a word the whole flight, of course I'll be stunned hearing you talk. You spoke earlier, as if you finally wanted to talk to me and now I'm letting you talk, it seems like you wouldn't. What is it that you really want? Don't be so incoherent, Antonio. You absolutely know that I don't like being confounded."

Antonio steadied his angered huffs into gradual breathing. Increasingly, he can't deny being intimidated by Arthur's display of aggression. He felt a little ashamed of himself… and angered altogether. Although to some other person, his threatened feeling would be just a downright laughable matter. Arthur's mild words and soothing expression wouldn't pass for an average person's usual expectation of aggressiveness. However, a year was enough for him to know what obscured madness was hiding behind that calm and controlled demeanour.

It had been an entire year and he should have known better.

In all those months, Arthur did nothing but to forcefully drown him in so much loathing— all pure loathing for himself and much towards the aggressive blond. It filled him up fatally until he cannot almost breathe. Now, he's brimmed to the edge, just wanting to explode and finally find relief. But despite of this urge, it will always come to him that he wasn't a violent person… that he was someone sensible. Just who in their right reasons would try to level the madness of a twisted man's mind?

That'll be very foolish.

Though, he doesn't really know until when he could hold himself back and just be satisfied fighting with mere lowly words.

"I... I just can't believe you sabotaged this whole thing." Antonio's loafers squeaked in contact with the spotless floor as he made uneasy steps towards Arthur. He tried speaking calmly but his voice inevitably broke, spilling his anger. "The show has nothing to do with you. I'm here because I had shed my own blood, sweat and tears just to pass those casting calls!"

He paused, trying to regain a little bit more composure in his words then continued, only to fail.

"And what did you do? You nonchalantly tailed me here and even cancelled my apartment!"

"That's absolutely preposterous." Arthur stopped reading and stared at him with an unperturbed reaction. "I didn't tail you here _nonchalantly_ as if I do not have better things to do. I think it would be impolite to decline an invite for an event like this. I don't have to explain further. You, yourself can understand that much—"

"Don't make me laugh!" Antonio was really losing his patience shred by shred to the point of danger. Hesitation could only try hard to push itself to him and attempt to pull back all the enraged words he was saying. "For all I know, you could really let me go alone this time if you wanted to!"

To Arthur, the sound of his companion's angered voice was really grating. However, he could only smirk wickedly in his mind as he foresees the indignant man's eventual falling into his inescapable trap. He smugly flips another page in his magazine and continued his provoking words.

"I cannot get what you're getting all mad about. I perfectly know that you're still going to walk at that show. The only difference is, I'm here and you're going to stay with me."

"That's it! That's the problem!" Antonio pointed his finger into nothing in particular and then kept on talking. "Can't you even trust me going alone for just once?"

"Trust, trust… how bloody far can you go with just trust?" Arthur sighed.

"Are you afraid that I might be walking out on you?"

The blond looked away snorting a quick, deceivingly sad laugh.

"Oh god, don't go on being so insecure!" After walking aimlessly in irritation, Antonio finally stopped and got nearer into Arthur's impassive face, flashing his eyes in protest. "You have me on a _short_ leash for a _long time_ and did you hear anything from me? No! Did I run and left you? No! DID I FUCK SOMEBODY ELSE?! NO!"

Those words stabbed itself through Arthur's ears like sharp daggers. He curled his fists tight, crumpling the edges of the magazine he was holding. Even with that, the corner of his lips still verged into a held-back smirk. His deliberate, cold, anticipating eyes blinked and quickly rolled a glance towards the brunet's face.

"Arthur, aren't we together?"

He knew it— every bit of Antonio's weaknesses. He knew the extents of his conscience, the limits of his temperament, his every quirk and mannerism. He knew how he ticks, what he likes and what he hates. And among all those things that he hated, Arthur knew all too well that Antonio can never stand being distrusted.

His eyes drifted down to Antonio's crossed arms and stared unfeelingly through the white gold band around the man's ring finger.

"Arthur?"

"Yes, yes… of course." He quickly shifted his now placid, greyish-green stare towards the brunet's own rare vivid pools of green and blithely smiled. "Come, come closer…"

Antonio unwarily stepped closer and at once received a warm, enthralling hug. The magazine that Arthur was holding dropped off into the tiled bathroom floor, producing a spread of faint echo towards the acoustic walls. His ears caught a glimpse of its resonance, along with its harmonious interlacing with the delicate sound of Arthur's steady breathing. The breath was warm, lingering softly under his jaw and ear, beckoning him… enticing him. The mild sound along with the feeling of embrace was strangely quaint, too soothing, pleasant…

Dangerous.

Antonio got himself loose from his lover's comforting hold, drove his impulsive hands onto the young man's soft and flaxen strands then vehemently kissed a pair of startled, slightly parted lips.

Arthur's hands clumsily held onto the edge of the bathroom counter and behind him. In finding balance, his right hand hit a couple of shower gels that eventually came crashing down into the empty sink. He closed his eyes, eventually holding on Antonio's waist and felt the sensual kiss pursue the depths of his mouth. As the man's soft lips finally drawn into a halting small peck, he sees the uneasy but ultimately sultry green eyes seem to utter an apology.

However, that apology was only refused at point-blank by a quick pushing motion of strong and gripping hands. Antonio's back collided with the shower's frosted glass panel, his head bumping unto the surface synchronously with a crashing of a retaliating mouth.

The kiss was thoroughly assertive, blowing his mind into a haze of temptation. Antonio found it so hard to resist and not respond to a kiss that was too overwhelmingly carnal and pornographic. His eyelashes eagerly met as he shut his eyelids to enter the darkest of passions. Those captivating, earthly senses he felt wrestled cruelly against his increasingly vague reasons. Everything perished in an instant except for the madness. All that it is was pure madness. He knew that he wasn't supposed to give in to these kinds of compulsions, if he really was so sure that he had remained any respect for what's left of his dignity.

However, his physical body uncontrollably ached for the need of pleasure. The whole feeling was making him alive... bringing his humanly desires in the realities of his mind. Even so, it also smothers him. He quickly stifles in its tight grasp. It kills him. It murders his pride.

Both men stopped for a moment as they vainly catch their breaths in hasty and intense gasps. Arthur rested his head onto the crook of Antonio's neck giving it a soft peck as his right hand gently caressed the man's cheek and raked through his hair of luscious ash brown. As the light kiss died in the warmth of the alluringly tanned skin, Arthur whispered in a breathy, persuasive voice.

"If you don't like this, just push me away..." he then rolled his eyes away, smirking "That is... if you can even dare to."

Antonio wasn't sure if he had correctly heard all of those words. He can't help but to be bothered by his own mind and body, turning against its promised limitations. All that he could only put focus to was the urging sexual demands that his body screams quietly. Little by little it turns against him, conceding and holding a banner of defeat right in front of the heinous, debauched aggressor called _lust_. Not even a few seconds after, he began to respond and capture the blond's lips again in more provocative neediness. His tongue battled Arthur's soft, erotic one and pushed itself further into the depths of his mouth.

"So… It seems like… you really can't." Arthur murmured out in between wet, squelching kisses, small chuckling and huffing.

Their lustfulness had taken possession of them, overshadowing their minds and bodies with ferocious desire, eventually taking them inside the shower by means of each other's forceful urges. Arthur's cardigan was hastily pulled off from him and tossed on the floor. Each of their shoes were thrown and left messily across the bathroom, upturned and spaced apart. Bodies moved violently in salacious desire as private parts pressed and fingers dug into still clothed shoulders. Antonio's elbow accidentally brushed through the shower's loose controls, causing a slight drizzle of warm water spraying from above, drenching the remainder of their clothes.

Arthur's eyeglasses steamed up. He notices the layer of mist as he flutters his eyes open, causing him to momentarily stop and remove the pair, placing them on the chrome-plated soap dish.

Making use of that small pause, Antonio felt for the shower knob with his left hand and grasped it with the intention of turning it off.

"No, leave it open. It'll be fun." Arthur chucklingly said in a low voice as he began to sweep his mouth and devour his man's succulent damp neck. A hand of his lightly drifted down to the upper buttons of the dark blue shirt, opening them one by one. As he hears the pinned man quietly gasp in pleasure, he knew that he had triumphantly regained his grasp and control over him.

Antonio felt the trails of kisses tingle in his neck and slither towards his exposed, heaving chest. As his insatiable lover moved above to seek more of his moans by a gentle lick to the ear, he in turn let his hands wander down the young man's buttocks. His lascivious grasp invited Arthur to press his hips even more firmly towards his own. When his lustful wishes were granted by the intense hip thrusts he received, his hands clutched the young man's lower back, pulling the drenched, tucked white shirt and felt the bare smooth skin with the rubbing of his palm. However, of all the warmth that engulfs his hand, there's some numb part of it that utterly refused to let itself be forgotten. His thumb slowly ran across it— the cold, smooth band wrapped around his ring finger.

Finally realising the weight of wrongs he had almost ignored, he let his hands fall down on his sides and loosened away from Arthur's embrace. His head turned away just in time for his lips to escape another of the young man's kisses. He then weakly grasped the unfastened shower knob and turned it closed.

"I'm sorry." Antonio muttered, raking his fingers through his damp hair "I really can't do this anymore."

Arthur's eyes widened. Some small water droplets on the side of his face roll against his cheek. A brief silence let a few more liberated droplets to be heard falling from the drained shower head. That silence lasted for just a few seconds before a sharp voice smashed it into countless pieces.

"Why?" Arthur asked without ever intending to wait for a response. As he forcefully grabs Antonio's left hand and held it up, he continued speaking in a hissing manner. "Because of this?! Do you fail to recollect what this has cost you? Did you forget that—"

"I know! You don't have to scream it at my face! I know my marriage is over!"

Everything was all so close to their edges but still failed at the farthest point of time. Antonio was close into giving himself in, but he was stopped by a fading memory. That fading memory was so close into refreshing in his mind, but his evasion blocked it off bluntly. Then again, even though how much he tried, some simple questions are enough to bring the honest truth right out from his mouth.

"Then why are you being an idiot?"

"Can't you get it?! I still love her! "

That same memory had effortlessly thwarted Arthur's supposed infallible plans. He was so close too… so close into succeeding. Shall he give up just because of some memory from the past? To him, it would be absolutely ridiculous if he'll concede just as easily. For he knows well that those exact memories aren't enough to make him feel a least bit threatened. In fact, he could even add those in his very own arsenal of coercions.

And that entire arsenal he kept would always be there at his back, waiting to be put into good use.

"Huh! Don't go on being so sure about that!" Arthur said, turning his head away to let out a slight laugh. He then returned his attentions, fixing his impassive stare towards Antonio's narrowed eyes. "Because for what I remembered, the first time I had _fucked_ you was nowhere but in your marriage bed!"

After all, he thought, he could use those memories to remind Antonio of his place in their relationship.

"And let me remind you… it wasn't even a few weeks after your divorce, am I correct?"

As those words broke into his hearing, everything swept irrepressibly inside Antonio's mind. The memory of a bitter separation wasn't yet too far to be forgotten. Even the sweet memory of a young love was yet too close for his recall. He remembers well how crazily in love he was when he asked his girl to marry him too soon. He remembers well how she was crazily in love with him too, as to say her yes to a young man of unstable means. _And oh god, she was beautiful…_ even on those low days when she accused him of having an affair with a fellow model… even on the day she last slammed the door at their Barcelona apartment and left him thoroughly empty.

All two years of marriage easily torn apart by mere distrust. It was made final just after two months of court proceedings. It was all too easy― they didn't have any children nor they have any valuable properties. It was all too fast― he immediately agreed to what his wife wanted. What will be the use of contesting the case? To prolong more agony and produce more hate in a relationship that was fast declining?

As if he wasn't already hated enough by her.

Even so, he loved her. He loved her enough to accept the fact his decisions didn't matter. He loved her too much that he willingly agrees on her words that it was all for good, even if it meant choking all the tears behind his pretences. All the truth of his self-hatred was only set free at night when he's alone. At day, all those regrets come rushing back to hide beneath his every smile, in every tranquil in his eyes as he bathed under the bright camera lights. In those excruciating times, it just became that those flashing lights are the only things capable of making him forget. He became addicted to it. He immediately had called that offer that was made to him by a certain successful photographer.

By chance, the photographer was also at Barcelona at that time. They met but he never had expected the discussion over terms and conditions to eventually turn into something casual.

_"You're a good man. Take it from me. Many people say that my intuition shocks them as they are usually correct. So don't be too hard on yourself because apparently, it's her loss. She should have valued you more rather than despise you. You might think I'm joking but I bet she'll never meet a man like you ever again."_

He would never had thought in his lifetime that those casual words will end up with the usual portfolio contract, but with the addition empty glasses of dry sherry and two naked bodies on top of his marital bed. He had let Arthur fuck him over his' and his wife's marriage bed that evening and he wasn't even half as legally drunk. However, he was mad, irrational and buried deeply towards a loss that he blamed upon himself. And he never knew to what extent those events would lead to. He never knew that it will lead him to barter his flesh for gratification, fame and fortune as if it were a mere thing to trade. Since after his divorce, he always felt that he had nothing more to lose anyway.

Now, he knows how much everything had cost as he pays the humiliating price.

And for that he could do nothing but drift his eyes away in shame.

"You better take that unsightly thing off. It's clearly quite an insult to your former wife… and to me as well, exceptionally." Arthur whispered close to his ear then backed off, fixing his shirt and grabs his reading glasses. "Now clean yourself thoroughly, I'll wait for you at the bed."  
  


 

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**Antique 1853 View Camera  
** Posted 09 September, 10:16 PM

_Photography hobbyists in the U.K.: Check this place out: I got this antique view camera from here in a bargain price. It's heavy, complicated and cumbersome… I hope I'll find a way to make this device function. Nothing beats the nostalgic feel of old photography…._

… _I had discovered these Daguerreotype plate images of my great-great grandfather. It was hidden in an old box back at my childhood home. Aren't they pretty? They come in an elegant golden and brown case too…_

… _Can anyone recommend me an ultra-wide lens converter and a…_

 **Hasselblad  
** Posted 13 September, 9:30 PM

_I might purchase my very own Hasselblad DSLR by next month… well, if my finances would allow it. It would be a dream to personally own one but I'm still weighing its practicality. For now I shall be satisfied using the studio's…_

**Photography tips with me and G.  
** Posted 15 September, 10:07 PM

_These are some awesome photography tips written by me and hosted by my colleague, Gilbert Beilschmidt. Don't fret G. Your hosting skills are of pure awesomeness too… and you owe me a drink for typing that._

[Click here to play]

 **Photography Challenge No. 26 (Photo Essay)  
** Posted 18 September, 06:08 AM

… _Subject matter for this round: "To where does that path go?". Make it as a creative photo essay (minimum of five photographs and maximum of ten). Submissions are accepted until the end of October._

 **BOUND FOR NEW YORK IN LESS THAN FOUR HOURS  
** Posted 18 September, 07:48 AM

… _I'll be at New York for the weekend, staying in for a couple of days or maybe three. Actually it isn't really work-related as I was just accompanying a Spanish male model-friend of mine. He is going to walk in four shows. Last week I thought I was going to be chosen to shoot the live event. However, I didn't get the assignment … so practically, I am going to skip at my own work way back across the pond with an excuse that I got an invite (yes, I really did though and no, I won't turn it down). I'm still bringing my camera and equipment with me and I'll still be taking a handful of photos so it's not really a useless little vacation. Surely, I am going to try on some new techniques with a_ _70-200mm VRII lens_ _. Updates and samples will be uploaded as soon as I fly back._

Page 1 out of 40... **[Next]  
** Update Order [Recent] **[Old]**

Quick, nimble fingers tapped onto the sensitive finger pad of a fire engine red-coloured laptop. The screen's bright light was reflected in his titanium square-framed glasses. He's near-sighted but his myopia was so bad that he still needs the pair to read font size 12 text from the electronic device which was resting on his lap. Slouching with his head on two gathered white pillows, he scrolls and checks out a blog that he always frequented. When he read the last updated post, he smiled, brimming in pure bliss.

_Oh man, wow, he is in New York! There is going to have a chance that I could meet him y'know._

Coincidentally, He was also in New York. He was trying his luck at signing in various photography studios, so far he already got into five and two at most had already given him a promising nod. He didn't expect it that they would be impressed with his simple portfolio. To him, his skills still weren't that yet satisfactory enough. Everything could still be put up in a higher notch or two… make that three. He always had this consummate ideal of an excellent photographer― the one who had written that blog.

He had won a considerable seven out of twenty-five of all the photography challenges that the blogger had put up. And as just he was checking out the topic for his 26th entry, he saw the good news of the blogger's visiting of New York City. He was happy that his hard work was recognized by that outstanding professional photographer-blogger and his colleagues. Yes, the judging of the photographs was also partly of the bloggers co-workers criticisms. Maybe, someday he could land a spot on that renowned studio. Who knows? Perhaps, if chance would allow, he could work and learn hand in hand with that incredibly genius photographer.

He bit off the last bits of his hamburger from a white paper bag. Some crumbs got into the keyboard which he immediately shook off and brushed with his hand. He stared again at his laptop while crumpling the bag into a ball and continued to browse the other entries. Not so long after, he began to look again at the blogger's past uploaded photo albums.

He always liked the way he photographs, especially, when he comes to photograph people. It seemed like there was magic in his fingers that he made an ordinary wide-angle zoom lens into an 'eye of life'. Every person that he takes and immortalizes in images made him feel a dull, prickly nostalgia… even though he hadn't met any of those people. He thinks a photographer with that kind of a skill and dexterity should become an international photojournalist… it's just a shame that he's tied into doing professional fashion photography.

After some more browsing he clicked on the _Modelling Portfolios_ tab.

**Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, Age 23 [click here for full album]**   
_A very talented model I had met at a Madrid show._   
_Yes, he is my friend. I'm thankful he agreed to work with our group._   
_Shot in Location: Barcelona, Palermo (Sicily) and Mallorca_

**Francis Bonnefoy, Age 25 [click here for full album]**   
_A versatile model I had known ever since I started photography_   
_He's very photogenic and easy to have good shots with._   
_Shot in location: Palma (Mallorca) and Paris_   
_Studio shoots: NorthernLights Studios_

**Lovino Vargas, Age 20 [click here for full album]**   
_He's an Italian model who was discovered by a colleague while doing a shoot in Sicily._   
_A promising, young and budding talent, I bet he will go far in the industry._   
_Shot in Location: Porto Cervo and Cagliari (Sardegna), Palermo_   
_Studio shoot: NorthernLights Studios_

**Natalia Arlovskaya, Age 20 [click here for full album]**   
_A pretty and edgy swimsuit and lingerie model I met at an ad campaign._   
_Hers was one of the portfolios I help build up. One of my best works too._   
_Studio Shoot: NorthernLights Studios and Polaris Creative Photography_

**Ludwig Beillschmidt, Age 19 [click here for full album]**   
_He's a colleague's brother that does modelling part-time._   
_His build is best suited for outdoors and sportswear._   
_Studio Shoot: NorthernLights Studios and Polaris Creative Photography_

1-5 out of 23... **[Next]**

The sandy blond-haired young man scrolled down staring much at the four, perfectly-lined preview photos of each models flashed on the vivid screen. He paid attention to each of the photographs and couldn't help but stare in admiration and envy on the great skill expressed by the photographer in capturing both the human subject and the natural background of the on-location pieces of work. Even the studio-shot only pictures, they are brilliant and thorough all the same.

He often wonders in the past that if by any chance, even though infinitesimal, that he could be able to say and express his deep regard of the photographer's professional work in person.

On the bed, he shifted his weight into his other side and felt some tingling numbness in his right leg due to his lack of mobility in the past one and a half hour. He deeply calculated the closest chance that he and the blogger might bump into each other, in the sidewalk, in some food chain or maybe in the subway. Matter-of-factly, they're both in NYC after all.

 _Yeah_. Now that he thought of it, that'll be next to impossible.

New York City had a bustling population of more than 8 million and counting. God knows how many hotels are there, how many restaurants are there, shops, streets, sidewalks and subways. Instead of getting the feeling that they are both closing in into each other, the thought had only defined in actual and specified terms how he described their anticipated meeting as an 'infinitesimal chance'.

He didn't even know the photographer-blogger's full name. Not even his face.

The blogger posted tons of his photography works but seemed to forget to post up a personal photo. Sometimes there would be a script-like signature found at the bottom right corner of some of his works, but they were nothing but a loopy "A. Kirkland". That must be surely his last name. However, "A." could mean almost anything. It might stand for Albert, Allistor, Austin and the thousand other names that start in the letter A. His own name starts in an A too― Alfred. What if they shared the same name? He could only laugh at the idea for his name never seemed to fit the photographer's surname.

 _Or could the blogger be a girl?_ He was nevertheless thrilled at the far-fetched thought.

He sunk down his body into the depths of the warm duvet and closed the lid of his laptop, letting it shut down on its own. His heavy eyelids gently hid the subtly stinging, tired blue eyes that were tearing both in irritation and sleepiness. To immediately relieve himself of the soft sting, he mildly rubbed a knuckle underneath the cold frame of his eyeglasses. It didn't take long until he decided to finally go to sleep and put the pair away messily and unfolded near the glowing night lamp. However, just as he wished himself a 'sweet dreams', he suddenly remembers that he had to brush his teeth first.

After tossing, turning and scuffling with the heaviness of his body's drowsiness, he finally stood up, cussing a little bit and grabbed a pair of headphones from the tangled mess of the nightstand. Soon, the tune of Smash Mouth's _All Star_ came blasting onto his ears. He danced and sang his way into the bathroom as he tapped through a bunch of to-do lists that were just growing longer and longer on his mobile.

The winding list just reminded him that he should really be sleeping early as he has to wake up early in the morning. At first thing, he had to meet up with some landlady of the apartment he had inquired to a couple of days ago. In addition to that, he still has a couple of interviews by tomorrow afternoon and a bunch of prints he need to reproduce before going to each one. And so on and so forth… there were too many things to do since he decided to start building up his own career. However, it was completely a nice feeling. He can't help but smile. Even though it will be such a long way to go for him, he was sure that the journey will be one hell of an adventure.  
  


 

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* * *

…  
  


_"You're quite great on the runway. Every shot that I took in every angle was exquisite... You look familiar though, I think I have seen you in a couple of magazines somewhere… Mind if I help you build up a new portfolio?... As a photographer, it'll certainly be a pleasure to work with you… Take my card. If you like, call me or you could visit our studio and take a look at your shots when I finish processing it."_

Those were just random words, almost too hazy that Antonio couldn't precisely remember everything. Yet he feels them hammering ruthlessly in his mind. By every touch and caress that trespasses his white bathrobe, he feels the sheer weight of his wrong decisions crush him even further beneath a grave that he himself had dug. But what strange feeling it is to be lured into a bitter destruction and still could taste nothing but the sweetness of sensuality! How could this tainted grave manage to mask itself as a bed of fragrant roses?

He never knew the answers… nor could he anymore recall what he spoke in reply to those random words. As Arthur grasped the front hem of his robe to coerce him into forgetting his shame, he could only wish that the vigorous kiss would take him back to that fateful day that caused that fateful small private show to happen. He could only wish that Arthur's violating mouth never uttered those praises to him, so that those forgotten replies of his― whatever those words might be― shall never had poured from his lips.

However, it was just too late. Every agreeing word had already been said. Every kindness had already deceived him. Every piece of affection had already irrevocably turned into a mad obsession.

And he was already in this shameful position.

As he reluctantly opened Arthur's grey denims, unclasping the front and freeing down the zipper, he feels the demands of his kneeling body destroying the increasingly weak fortifications of his pride. His uneasy lips were easily soothed by the comforting warmth as he kissed the patch of skin above and below the seated young man's navel. The soothing comfort he felt made him suckle traces of kisses that follows the trail of subtle darker blond hairs that disappeared into the underclothes of his enigmatic lover.

_"That… that. Hold… Keep your head still. Straighten your back, it's quite bent. Okay, I got it. Now, relax… give me a boyish slouch, like a casual posture… No, not like that! You look like a bloody rejected suitor with a bad headache. Oh… stop. That's it, now hold and… we got it! Ooh, this frame's burning hot. I'm sorry for saying this but all regrets to the woman who walked out on such a dashing model like you."_

Everything that Arthur was often exceeds his simple understanding. Behind all the talent, meticulousness, hard work and a rather accidental, occasional humour was this person whom only a few knows very well. He won't deny that he had been warned by those _few_ but it wasn't his personality to prematurely judge other people. But still, things would have been a lot better if he hadn't given Arthur the benefit of the doubt.

Then again, who would have possibly known? How could he have known? How on earth could he have kept his distance before it was too late?

On that regretful evening in Barcelona, he gave himself impetuously and might even have unintentionally seduced the young man just for the hell of his impulses. He knew it was his fault but it was Arthur who apologised to him and told him to just forget the incident. It was all a rush when that incident surprisingly turned to a friendship, then some generosity into affection. From affection it turned into possessiveness. Looking back, it all seemed inevitable.

In all reality, he wondered, what did Arthur really thought of him? What does he really want from him?

As he looked at Arthur's eyes from above he only felt how hard it is to decipher the young man's thinking. Every word that comes out from his mouth is like poison that disguises itself in honeyed pretensions. Arthur's sweet smile as he reached out to claim his lips once again were too perfectly tempered that anyone couldn't see it as too saccharine.

_"Oh really? Thank you very much! There aren't many renowned guests present here. I'm glad you took your time and enjoyed the show… Thanks for the card, I'll call of course."_

Arthur still remembers those words as if they were just spoken yesterday. He recalls very well how circumstances came a long way from just that single incident. Everything he had planned had been accomplished. As his trousers were quickly pulled down by a pair of hands that learned how to please, he was certain that he would always win. That no matter what, he would get anything he likes… anyone he fancies.

He gently closes his eyes and writhed at the edge of the bed as a hand hesitantly felt the clothed erection between his legs. The warm hand slowly got into pace, going up then down and firmly rubbing the cloth of his underwear into the hot skin. Wanting to put more fuel in his arousal by taking advantage of the visuals, he put the glance of his uninhibited half-lidded eyes onto Antonio's oblivious face.

That face― lightly tinted with the colours of shame and drawn darkly with vainly kept anxiousness― even with that, it still never ceased to captivate his senses. Arthur liked those brilliant eyes, though lowly and shamed, was still always vivid like the way it shone on each portfolio photo he had helped the young model to have. Arthur liked the way those delicately parted lips slowly seal and part again in nervousness. Those lips never failed to be alluring, whether be taking him in by the light of its charming smile coming through the lenses of his camera or by the way of its present sensual heat coming through the fabric of his underclothing.

Arthur felt Antonio's fingers clutch firmly at the snug band across the small of his back. He nudged his hips up as his underwear was gently slid off of him to ease its freeing. Soon, he feels nothing but the unhindered brushing of damp, naked lips onto his own freed nakedness. He pulled his tense body up from the support of his elbow and raked a hand through Antonio's drying strands of brown hair, palm resting on the flushed ears.

"I terribly want you now."

Antonio lifted his head towards the direction of Arthur's voice and quickly placed a stare towards him. His eyes were nothing but peculiar, boldly expressing both his reluctance and the irony of his explicit carnal desires. Being fully aware of this, the mortified man quickly swept the pair down and attempted to hide them from the perverse scrutiny of his maliciously-instinctive lover.

The fierce throbbing between Arthur's legs was rapidly lit aflame by the mouth that enveloped the tip of his length. It was chastely slow at first, tedious and obviously embarrassed. However, it wasn't that long until the pace became laced with so much intense fervour and wanting. Arthur voiced out low groans and quiet gasps, his hands tugging onto his pleasurer's hair in both greed and lust.

Antonio dug his fingers on his lover's lower back, crumpling the covering of an unbuttoned white shirt and gripping tightly onto taut skin. He did this to very best hold back from being too overwhelmed, to grasp tightly onto the handlebars of control and keep the pieces of his shattered pride from melting homogeneously into his feeling of arousal.

All was in vain, though. He wasn't any more resistant and strong enough to fight against whatever fate he was being lead to. Unable to restrain in any further extent, he tore his gripping hands away from Arthur's skin, placing one to pleasure his lover and the other, to pleasure himself.

What Arthur feels and sees in front of him puts his mind into a strange haze that can only be caused by being utterly intoxicated by lust. The sensation of a wet tongue that seeks his gratified moans, the gripping hand which was very generous in giving him pleasure, him being visually enticed by the whole salacious act was becoming all too much.

Antonio withdrew his mouth for a moment and looked at his lover's eyes expressively, still never stopping his hand from working up and down the entire shaft. Arthur intently steadied his eyes as if he was captured by that seductive face. He could not take it any longer. The dishevelled ash brown hair, those pair of expressive eyebrows, lush lashes, that handsome nose and that indecent mouth hungrily taking him again— all those brought out his deepest desires. That body too… he wanted to tear it naked push himself to it and make it his… only his.

"That's enough... that's enough. Pull yourself up closer to me." Arthur breathily said.

Still remaining in a kneeling position, the other pulled himself up. Arthur flung out his arms in a tight, fiery embrace and ravenously slathered kisses on the flexed neck which was freely accommodating him. His tongue applied drabbles of moisture into the sandalwood-fragrant skin, making Antonio twitch in alternate moans and pleasured gasps. His hands loosened up and his fingers fumbled on the knot of Antonio's white bathrobe. Arthur pulled a hairsbreadth from Antonio's skin, trailing his ticklish warm breath.

He pulled Antonio up, along with himself so that he could take his robe off. Arthur slipped his mouth again towards the other one's neck, slithering upward hotly towards the jaw corner and a little up into the flushed ear. The earlobe felt frigid compared to his tongue and he warmed them up by mildly fondling it. Then, He whispered gently with damp, humid words.

"Remember, you are mine. You will always be mine. I love you so, so much."

With those words he roughly shoved Antonio towards the bed and positioned himself on top of him. He immediately began consuming the naked man again, never allowing him to question his words and actions nor to push him away. He ravaged his own lips in every inch of the breathless man's tanned skin, his hands then groping whatever part that his mouth can't reach. Soon, he felt the man's arms tightly wrap itself around his body and heard him easing out quiet gasps. Those hot reactions made it clear to him that Antonio doesn't actually have any plans to object or resist him.

Arthur was absolutely pleased by that.

He pulled away from Antonio's body and hastily unfastened his cuff buttons. The white button-down shirt was impatiently shrugged off and finally tossed away. As Arthur reached for the nearby bottle of lube that he told Antonio to bring out after bath, he realised some mistake, smacking a firm palm on the forehead and came on hissing.

"Goddamn it! I forgot the sheaths."

Antonio blinked his lingering eyes away and sighed. He dragged the weight of his upper body sideways and reached for his wallet that he had left on the nightstand a while ago. He flipped the leather open and pulled out a small plastic packet from its hidden compartment.

"Here." He threw the packet onto Arthur.

The packet bounced off Arthur's naked chest and fell onto the scrunched duvet. The blond just expressionlessly stared at it and then at Antonio's face, making the confusion slowly emerge from the latter's intensely-green eyes. Arthur's own pale green pools subsequently narrowed unforgivingly. The brunet was nonetheless puzzled.

But before he could even voice out questions, Antonio was already flatly hushed down. It all went so quick the next thing he knew was the mild burning of his cheek as he crashed harshly onto the sheets. However, he still caught a glimpse of Arthur's leering before he was forcibly turned face down. He vainly tried to calculate what in hell had he possibly done to turn Arthur mad. At the very moment he squirmed and tried to turn his body up, a blocking arm and that tone of voice he detested came again.

"Oh no, no… Keep yourself down." Antonio couldn't put Arthur's face in a proper view, but still he could feel his malicious glares shoot at him. "Actually, I'm quite _impressed_ … _really impressed_. Are you some kind of a _ready_ scout? Pray tell me, how many _condoms_ do you keep in your wallet?"

"Arthur, I do not like this conversation."

The sound of a ripped plastic-foil wrap came into Antonio's ear and then a quick response.

"No. You will do. You will like this conversation…"

He would then hear he bottle of lube click open, a squirt and soon, the faint squelching sound of it on latex.

"…I assure you. You will _absolutely_ like it… and perhaps, even more."

Arthur heaved the prone man's hips up and quickly and distastefully slathered lube onto his backside. Before Antonio could even voice out another complaint, a finger or two came prodding inside him. It immediately rummaged for his sweet spot. A telling-off he planned to shout at Arthur's face merely became a groan as the young man quickly spotted the right angle to hit his pleasant swelling.

It was utterly rude and invasive. He knew that Arthur was twisted but he never knew that he was twisted enough to push himself that way onto anyone. He was utterly manipulative, always choosing to ingratiate rather than to blatantly force the lock off into people. It was getting worse, he thought, irrevocably turning for the worse.

"Now I find it quite simple to understand… the reason why you are so aching to be away with yourself. _Apparently_ , you do not have any plans to be _alone_ at all."

As he spoke his taunting words, Arthur's fingers quickly withdrew but he yet doesn't have any plan to tone down his newfound approach in flaunting his aggressiveness. Soon, Antonio felt another part of Arthur's body breaking him apart intrusively. On the first repugnant slam that was given to him, Arthur bent over closer and asked him.

"So I ask… How many are you supposed to shag when I'm not around?"

Antonio gritted his teeth and flinched disgustingly at the wet touch that feathered down his shoulder. "Can you fucking hear yourself? Are you seriously asking me that question?!"

"Yes! And I expect an answer!"

"I have always kept condoms in my wallet!"

Arthur slammed more onto him, making the other's head hit one part of the bed's headboard. "That's not an actual answer to my question." He loudly gasped those words through the overpowering sensations that radiates from his lower half.

Even though how hard he tried not to make any noise that could possibly satisfy his aggressor, Antonio couldn't keep himself coherent as to stifle each lewdly erotic sound his body makes. Each slap on his buttocks eventually pushes pleased moans to pour from his mouth. He held onto the sheets as his heart writhed in pain because of the unspeakable shamefulness that he felt. His mind kept on denying it but his body was too honest to claim that it enjoys the distastefully tough pleasuring Arthur was giving him.

"I was right, aren't I?" Arthur formed the words under his laborious breath. "You absolutely like this."

"I'm not―" Antonio flashed those words quickly in stifling a generous moan. It was a pointless attempt and he completely knew that it won't work under Arthur's thorough scrutiny.

"Careful... Your lies are becoming a habit." Arthur teased.

Even with this bleak situation, he would still keep on trying all desperate attempts to deny Arthur the satisfaction of overwhelming him into surrender. He kept on erratically shifting his attention to the boiling rage that he keeps inside, for it may be the only way that he could escape from the filthy throbbing feeling between his legs. His mind repeatedly bellowed out Arthur's previous provocations into a wild inferno. _Lies, lies, lies…_ every single accusation made him recoil in contempt, making his fingers claw the sheets so tightly in anger.

Being distrusted… being accused, he all hated those feelings. He even hated those a lot more than being treated like a mere item to be consumed.

"I'm not lying about anything! If someone's lying here it's you!" He paused trying to think carefully, easing out a reluctant breath through clenched teeth. "So much for saying you love me."

"And I do..." Arthur weakened his thrusts into gentle but precise rhythms, putting his weight on his left side and moved Antonio's body into the more comfortable position. "I love you so much I would go through all the trouble of counting every mole in your body."

He then continued picking up pace, securing the other's swaying body close to him by clutching his right hand and arm onto the smooth shoulder. His mouth being free, he used it to toy with the man's nape and to put moist kisses down towards the trembling shoulder.

Antonio's hand flexed and gripped tighter on where it rests as he let out a soft moan and suck air in once more. He wanted to speak but every breath he inhaled seemed to be inadequate, making him silent beyond simple groans and gasps. His body seemed to be impatient and eager of the crazed sensations it receives and he could only narrow his eyes in disbelief on why he was feeling this way. Perhaps, it never even wavered behind his anger. Once that Arthur freed his shoulder to glide a hand down and repeatedly pleased his aching, all the remnants of his pride seeped under his skin like strange acid, making a shockwave both of shame and pleasure to emit in merciless surges.

_"J-joder―"_

Arthur soon withdrew and positioned himself to rest atop the other one's spent body. He took some more time for his own skin to enjoy the sensual heat and vigorous thumping coming from Antonio's own overdriven heart. His ferocious desire to finish was firmly kept at bay as he decided to deprive himself of a release. The idea of a delayed sexual gratification wholly excites him, making a self-contented smile verge upon his lips.

He lifted and fixed his glance on the face that exudes both blankness and tiredness and ran a clean palm down the other's sweat-beaded temple. "God, you're beautiful… even with that kind of expression." His finger then outlined Antonio's jaw, encouraging him to be attentive to his words and continued speaking. "So much that it quite worries me. If I don't keep you close enough, you might stray away."

Antonio strongly squirmed as if either telling Arthur to move away or not talk to him, perhaps both. However, his domineering lover never even thought of putting even a little bit of interest into what he was trying to convey. Arthur only continued to speak his mind, stubbornly not moving a single inch from where he was.

"Had someone told you this before? That _only fools trust somebody that is too beautiful, too fraudulently beautiful?_ "

The man under him paid no heed and only rolled his eyes away, ultimately fed up of being easily coerced by such a venomous voice. Even so, Arthur still refused to withhold his words. His thoughts never wavered away from his confident plans. To him, it would always be best to keep someone tightly wrapped around his finger. Locked or chained even.

"I still quite remember to whom I heard those words years ago. She utterly bewitched me that night with her charm and I swear she's the prettiest girl in Barcelona that evening. Well, Antonio, I just wonder if you know her. She can't be that hard to spot for she is quite a head-turner… with her _Crème de menthe-_ coloured eyes, blonde tresses and body that pretty much screams _childless_."

His voice was inaptly toned. So much that it doesn't sound like he's just telling any other trivial anecdotes, it seemed more like teasing in the sense of planning to inflict torment. After some short pause of recall, Arthur continued to speak.

"Although, there still was this one flaw I saw. The redness that outlines her eyes, aflame by hatred of her too much-indifferent husband… no, no… not indifferent… I bet her word's _wandering_ … _wandering husband_. She says that she absolutely hates her husband's charm, though she was never aware that she had it in her too. The immodesty of such charm… oh how it could spark temptation and lead you to sin."

Antonio drew his anticipating eyes towards Arthur's face, clearly struck by some of the words he unwillingly heard. He expected to hear more but his vague-tongued, imperious lover didn't say anything further. The young man just gave small kisses on his lips and chin before gently pushing into him again.

"Arthur… what was that you were just telling me—" He asked as the opportunity arose.

"Hmm? Never mind that." Arthur exhaled as he got deeper. "You spoilt my mood, you're not listening anyway. Besides, it happened even before the two of us met so it isn't really important."

 _It happened? What happened?_ Antonio turned quiet as he's being drowned by the questions he couldn't keep from flooding in.

Falsely taking his companion's silence as relaxation, Arthur continued into his own matters and intensified his thrusts, finally burrowing his face into the curve of the silenced man's neck as climax and pleasure shuddered out his entire being.

He remained inside Antonio's body, then not anymore moving but making his mouth work playful gentle bites on the patch of skin before him. He afterwards flashed a satisfied smile and gave a forehead kiss that speaks of itself as gratitude towards his man's good job in keeping him pleased. He lingered for a few more seconds before finally pulling out and reached for the hotel's compendium.

Three note papers were torn off from its leather sleeve and used as a wrapper for the disposed sheath. Arthur tossed the crumpled ball of paper at the rubbish bin under the desk before fishing his underwear and denims from the carpet. Half-dressed and done in, he disappeared into the bathroom in a manner that was almost entirely offhanded.

For most people, that kind of cold indifference would spark a little harmless insecurity towards a person who was promised to be loved. It really does when speaking of most people's circumstances. However, if speaking of situations when one was entirely exploited by the sheer selfish love that can't do anything but to solely use coercion or force, only the worst sparks in the manipulated one's mind.

Like the noisy gushing of water that perhaps coming from the bathroom sink, desperate thoughts flooded relentlessly inside Antonio's ears… repeating every word. It was as if he was hearing everything once again.

_"There was one flaw though, the redness that outlines her eyes, lit aflame by hatred of her much-indifferent husband… Oh no, not indifferent… it's wandering, she said, I remember… wandering husband."_

Wandering…

_"She says that she absolutely hates her husband's charm, though she was never aware that she had it in her too. The immodesty of such charm… oh how it could spark temptation and lead you to sin."_

Even though how much he tried to deny it, it still sounds the same. It was still the same very words. It sparks no harmless little fire and it brings out a blaze of too much recall as to purposely scorch and thaw out the cold veins under his skin.

He laid there. Very still under the lopsided folds of the duvet.

When does putting a face to somebody else's vague stories become that easy?

_"Antonio, I just wonder if you know her."_

_"She had it in her too… The immodesty of such charm… oh how it could spark temptation and lead you to sin."_

His present existence and surroundings freely melted into a surreal but unnoticed blur. He couldn't sense anything but the emerging painful doubts and the deep rejection of a betrayal that he wished to remain only as nothing else but something imagined. Arthur's voice was nearly put into a fade into the background until it managed to penetrate Antonio's thoughts. Just a moment ago, the latter almost didn't notice that the other one was already at his side, ending a phone call and talking adamant orders to him.

"…they were asking if you could join them for another year of campaign. It seems that they like your work so much. I said that we are considering it. You should do another year. This will greatly benefit your career―"

But before he could allow Arthur to finish dictating him further about his life, he cut him off.

"Tell me honestly, did you have a connection with my wife?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow and wore an expression as if he hadn't heard the question clearly.

"Where did you dug out that idea from?" He then let out a small fallacious chuckle, intending to mislead the honest truth into a mere joke or mockery. "You have silly imaginations."

"Don't you dare taunt me!"

The situation suits its best, Arthur realised. He didn't actually have the plans of keeping secrets to himself beforehand. In fact, he didn't even considered what had happened years ago as a shameful secret. If Antonio were to ask him at some point, he would tell him straightforwardly― without any hesitation.

"Then fine! I'll tell you everything! So what if I got a taste of your wife before I tasted you?! Just be grateful I saved you from guilt! You got your reven―"

"You sick bastard!"

But before Arthur's mind could even expect it in the slightest, his back crashed on the edge of the bed, almost missing the mattress. A pair of eyes threw sharp glares on him as a pair of hands sharply held him down. Despite of that, he still foolishly expects nothing bad to happen.

Rage was evident to explode in Antonio's loud words and widened eyes. He was just only a notch from finally throwing his usual sensibilities away in exchange for lividness. That kind of anger wasn't obviously some petty flame to be played with. However his assertive lover never even tried to stifle a smug smile. It was as if putting more fuel into a raging fire was some sort of a very entertaining amusement.

"You got your revenge without even knowing it! Aren't you satisfied by that? I pursued you, cared for you, gave you everything!" Then a tiny but confident laugh escapes Arthur's throat "And… and that wife of yours? Have you even wondered what she does behind your back?"

Antonio's grip tightens itself around Arthur's windpipe, threatening to shut him up. However, it might have been best for him to withdraw both his hands to cover his ears. But it was too late. Words of betrayal soon flowed irrepressibly.

"She displays herself out alone, picks her fancied men while you're out there struggling to make ends meet as an underpaid model and then what? She puts her blame on you and left you like you were rubbish! The truth hurts but accept it!"

 _"…F_ - _fill_ _de puta_ _!"_

He balled his fist very tight and hit Arthur in the face. The blond lost his balance and eventually fell onto the carpeted floor. Arthur felt the injury afterwards with his hand and checked for blood. With a pained look, he watched Antonio cloth himself in a bathrobe and sat at the farthest edge away from him, his face clearly sunk onto his hands.

Antonio's thoughts were only dim and confused. He was overwhelmed by such strong emotions. He wanted to rip Arthur apart, hurt him so he'll know how exactly he was hurting. But he couldn't do more damage than he had done actually. He was betrayed, tricked, lost. Lost in anger, lost in shame and lost in this game that he gambled his pride with. There wasn't a single reason for him to go forward. His sad eyes gazed into the bright New York skyline. How beautifully serene it was behind all these chaos.

Arthur himself picked his white shirt and slipped into it. He sat again at the upholstered chair across the nightstand and the pile of magazines. No more in a casually neat way, he sank in his seat and fought the urge to grimace as he felt the injury on his lip once again. He laid his greyish-green eyes to the ash brow-haired young man whose mind only wished to escape the bitterness of reality.

Seconds, minutes passed and the wall of silence built itself again out of its past ruins. However, Arthur never allowed it to materialise once again. He stood up quickly and then picked the telephone at the nightstand.

"Antonio, it's getting late. You shouldn't pass the night without eating—"

"J-just fuck off!"

He only received a hiss. He closed his eyes. The line soon picked up.

"A serving of tea and an ice bag please. Thank you."  
  


 

…

* * *

…  
  


_I don't drink coffee I take tea my dear_   
_I like my toast done on one side_   
_And you can hear it in my accent when I talk_   
_I'm an Englishman in New York._

The almost inaudible music from the floor's lobby softly greets every passer-by a lively, jazzy good morning. There were no words to accentuate the said music but somehow, Alfred hums the familiar lyrics in his mind in an attempt to calm his tension in front of the elevator's shut doors. He occasionally curls his lips only to let out a slight cuss as the blinking floor number outrightly tells him that the elevator car is still stuck on lower floors.

At a distance one would not notice the gradual fraying of his nerves for he looked real sharp and crisp in a basic pressed white shirt and fitted dress trousers. He left behind his usual effortless whatever's-first-in-the-closet style earlier that morning, well, except for his favourite dark-brown satchel whose strap rested on nearly incongruous over his right shoulder, bag resting on his buttocks. On his arm then held a thick manila envelope labelled a bold _"A.F. Jones Portfolio - 11 x 7 Prints"._ Not so long after shifting his weight over and over, the elevator bell finally chimed.

He took a quick glance on his wristwatch.

_I will make it. I'm not gonna be late._

With brush of a nervous smile, those words repeated on his mind.

Earlier that morning, he had actually woke up with that great feeling that often goes with his usual optimistic nature. However, those pleasant thoughts never lasted when his phone rang with the employer he's applying for on the other side. The ad company called him first thing in the morning and rescheduled his interview to a sooner time. With no other choice but engage in a frantic haste, he jolted out and rushed, miraculously got himself smartly dressed despite all the mess and headed on.

However, it wasn't yet the end of that very _great_ , bothersome morning. After scurrying out and taking some trial shots of interesting strangers he felt guilty to let go of, he realised that he left his envelope of prints back in his room. For that, he just wasted time going down the slow elevator just to go up again.

And then there's this reproduced requirements that magically went on missing in the worst possible time. To salvage the situation, he still has to go three floors above to the expensive but fast business centre to get those papers photocopied once again.

Crazy morning indeed… enough to easily make anyone else's mood turn very sour. But still, Alfred thinks it's better to just paint a hopeful smile across his face.

As he reached out to press the _'Close'_  button on the elevator panel, he saw another person walking towards the steel doors so his quick instinct got him to press the _'Open'_  button instead. His eyes lay onto the blond young man in cashmere and a camel pea coat and to the sarcastic green pools that met his gaze for a few seconds. He would have shrugged the small encounter off if not for the glaring red bruise on the young man's lip corner.

His small pause allowed the blond young man to press the _'Upper Lobby'_  button on the panel before Alfred could even reach and press for the floor on which he supposed to be heading to.

"Hey, excuse me, but I'm going up."

The young man just crossed his arms and leaned his back onto the rails. He will then let out an accent-laden, derisively toned reply.

"Oh I'm sorry… I didn't know. Well, I suppose you have to wait then."

Alfred puckered his eyebrows and swept his eyes over the passenger across him, holding them long enough to cause extremely annoyed words to snap back at him.

"Will you quit staring at me? It's quite unpleasant."

"Whoa... Hold on there. Me? unpleasant? Then what's that expression of yours called? Horrid?" Alfred said back like he was telling a simple joke, lightly laughing with no real offense intended. However, it wasn't interpreted as such by the foreign guy who only rolled his eyes in irritation.

The young man's sharp exhale afterwards almost sounded like a blunt _'shut up'_  to Alfred.

"Yeah. Sorry… Just cheer up, dude. Mornings can be a bitch you know… but they're still too superb to be ruined."

_I'm an alien_   
_I'm a legal alien_   
_I'm an Englishman in New York._

Can't do anything but to better keep his words in, Alfred just carried on putting his stress off by softly whistling away his last song syndrome. Soon in otherwise silence, the car reached the upper lobby and a soft chime gave its way into the opening metal doors. The young foreign man drew a handkerchief to conceal his bruise as he walks out of the elevator, not at all forgetting to let out one last muttered comment.

"God, how bloody obnoxious."

Alfred almost didn't notice something had slipped off the young man's pocket as the hanky was pulled. And when he finally chose pick it up, it was too late– the elevator had its doors closed, already pulling up to the upper floors of the building.

That something was a key card sleeve. He unfolded its flaps away.

A card was present there and was also this scribbled note.

_Arthur,_

" _Trust, trust… how far can you go with just trust?"_  
 _Well, it seemed that you can trust me after all, even a little_.  
 _If I were you I didn't sleep in the whole night._

_Goodbye._

He checks underneath and it revealed something:

 **Room:** 1522  
 **Guest:** A. Kirkland  
  
  
  


 

-o **0** o-  
...  


* * *

**  
A/N:**

Do not store sheaths in wallets ever. That's an advice especially targeted towards men as they usually keep wallets on back trouser pockets. Antonio here is a model so he is supposed to be carrying a sling bag or a satchel whatnot with him to store some extra clothes, portfolios and perhaps, a wallet.

And wait, yes… Antonio's (Spain) wife is Belgium. Belgium fans, don't bash me yet. Stories are something that is developed and I completely have to avoid having infodumps so please give me a chance to tell the rest of Belgium's side on later chapters.

**Vocabulary:**

_Haute Horlogerie_ : Expensive, designer watches manufacturers.  
 _¡_ _Joder!_ (Spanish Interj.): "Fuck!", expression is also used in Catalunya according to a source.  
 _Crème de Menthe_ : A richly-green, mint-flavoured liqueur.  
 _Fill de puta!_ (Catalan Profanity): Son of a bitch!

Not all sources are honest and some of my online friends might just be joking around with me so if anything's wrong here I beg you to please drop a note for me.

**Disclaimer and Links:**

I repeat… everything's not mine except for the plot of this fan fiction.

Hetalia: © Himaruya Hidekaz  
All Star: Performed by Smash Mouth ©2001 Interscope Records  
YT link: watch?v=L_jWHffIx5E  
Englishman in New York: Originally performed by Sting ©1987 A&M Records.  
YT link: watch?v=d27gTrPPAyk (Original Version); watch?v=53itehUPLGM (Very nice version!)

Thank you for reading!

I admit that writing this chapter became a little bit traumatic for me… But oh well, yay for my very first _lemon_ ! LOL.


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